


CSEDR5TGYHUIJOKJYSWEXDRTGYHUIKOPLEW3452687EU9I0O3-1IOGRFGOIWKMF;LRWF

by madeinchinainkorea



Category: ibihjlkjpugxuolvsd
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:14:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26130229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madeinchinainkorea/pseuds/madeinchinainkorea





	1. Chapter 1

**THEIA PERDE FOUND** herself slumped into the hideously uncomfortable guest chairs strewn around the Handler's desk for only the third time that week, a groan swelling in the back of her throat. The sheer rue bubbling within Theia was almost unbearable by then ━ what on earth had she been thinking? By God, if only she'd had the guts (or the knowledge) to scrape her eardrums out, then she most certainly would've.

Of course this stupid ruddy plan of hers didn't work. Even after numerous attempts (and numerous rereads on a book on how to be extremely persuasive), everything was in-futile. Nothing ever did work. And probably nothing ever would, even if the Handler ended up dead in a ditch, or better, Theia herself. But she supposed, with dwindling enthusiasm and optimism, that it was the dedication that counted.

Theia twiddled her thumbs together, not exactly having the nerve to look the Handler in the eye. Though realising that it was probably best to not block out whatever waffle her mother had thrown at her this time, she perked her head up slightly and met her gaze with a certain naivety draped across her eyes.

"...now look at me, Theia." The Handler's voice faded back in, sounding overly exasperated and annoyed which only made Theia’s toes curl harder. "Darling, the world outside your precious life at the Commission is extremely dangerous for a young girl like you."

Well, that was a bit of an overstatement, Theia thought, hardly biting back the urge to explain how she was not a little girl and was thirty shitting years old despite how she acted or even looked.

"Don't you look at me like that, young lady. You may be thirty, but you are still technically fifteen. What would someone like you do if you were caught in an alley with a murderer? Fight back? Kill him?"

Theia blinked back in response, face so blank it was unreadable. The Handler did have a point, however reluctantly Theia admitted that ━ Herb from Management could probably put up a fistfight better than her, and he was Herb for crying out loud!

The Handler merely scoffed and drew up a broad smile. "And really darling, your abilities are much needed here. Where would we all be without your delightful pick-me-up coffee each morning? Everyone loves you here! I'm not sure where we'd all be without that adorable little smile of yours," she gushed, tugging a manicured finger onto Theia's cheeks. "Honestly, I have no clue as to where you pull all these ideas about leaving from. A girl so fragile as yourself really should just be content with your grand life here."

After a sharp draw of breath, Theia finally spoke. “Is there really anything grand about serving you lot coffee all damn━”

"Ah-ah! Language, young lady.” The Handler snapped, wagging a condescending finger into Theia’s face, as though she was two years old again. "Now, what did we say about talking back?"

Theia painfully remarked the lecture from the month before, listing each rule the Handler had set up for her after she had caught Theia smoking with ladies from the Circuit room during their break.

"Good. I’m glad you’ve finally remembered something,” the Handler said, drumming her fingers along the stainless-steel desk below her.

She drawled a sigh and frowned. “But mother! Why can't ━ no, won’t ━ you just━”

"No.“ The dark and serious glance upon her mother’s face was no short of threatening and Theia felt a small chill of terror trail down her spine. As soon as that look appeared, it vanished only to be replaced with a smile that lay a little too wide and a little too jolly. “Darling, why don’t you make yourself useful and get me a coffee? Two sugars, you know how I like it. We could go out for lunch if you’d like. Now off you go, dearie.”

Theia’s teeth gritted against each other and swooped up from her chair, a tight smile pressing at her lips. “Yes, of course. Mother.” After a dismissing flourish from the Handler’s hand, Theia swept out of the room.

Theia stared down at the mess of teabags and sugar across the marble of the counter and blinked against the sudden hot prickling behind her eyes. She looked up at the ceiling and breathed slowly in and out, in and out, bringing herself back under control. She was sure not to cry over something like this ━ not even in the privacy of her own goddamn beverage making-station. The outcome was inevitable, she shouldn't have even tried. This was her grand life, she reminded herself bitterly.

In a remarkable effort of self-discipline, Theia swallowed back the threat of tears and again tried to force her attention to the Handler's coffee, now overpouring and dribbling onto the counter below. But her thoughts would not obey. If only she could just set her stupid damn desk on fire for the millionth time in her painstakingly slow life, that'd show her and her stupid cup of coffee with two stupid sugars. If only the Handler hadn’t replaced her desk with a stainless steel one just for that reason.

There was so much more she craved in life other than being the lovely girl who served the workers of the Commission coffee. So much more than counting how many sugars went into some worker’s tea. So much more than what her mother had told her she was worth, or anyone else for that matter. But her determination was nothing more than her gut squelching beneath her skin at that moment, only a distant thought as Theia found herself quickly being dragged back down to her sour reality.

"Oh, fudging hell..." Theia glowered, pounding a tight fist into the worktop. More coffee only spilt out and splashed onto her hand with a spiking sizzle. ”Stupid damn thorn-in-my-side coffee-bastard fudge,” Theia muttered aloud, and a passing worker gasped loudly and levelled a sharp look at her as he hobbled by. "Oh God, erm, not you! I am so, so sorry... good morning!" She called after the worker as he hurried down the hall and towards the briefcase room that sat only a stride or two away from her tiny room.

Her patience by now was tiptoeing its away along a fragile and very thin slate of ice. If only a rock fell on her head or some sort of baseball bat or even better, some sort of siren call from God that told her to just end━

"...Mr Five... yeah, that's right."

Another voice chimed in a rushed whisper. "Escaped you say? How on earth did he pull that off?"

"Dunno. According to Dot, he's done some magic stuff to get to 2100 or something... whatever the case, he's in deep shit."

There was a hum of acknowledgement. "Right yeah, heard about that. Apparently, the Handler has only gone and sent some damn hitmen after the man. Shame... anyway, I was thinking of asking Gloria out for some Italian..."

Like that, the passers-by trailed off into the distance along with their gossip.

Suffice to say, Theia's interest was truly piqued. Over the countless years she'd spent serving the Commission, she'd heard her fair share of stories and countless rumours on the legendary 'Mr. Five'. They spoke of him as though he were the second coming of Christ and how brilliantly practised his murdering skills were, and how the old fart had managed to survive in some apocalypse a good few years into the future. Apparently, he'd even caused the Titanic to sink and because of that, he now bore an eyepatch and a hook for an arm. Theia simply took everyone's word for it ━ Mr Five truly seemed to be something.

Now hearing that he'd escaped (however the old guy managed to pull that off somehow) something fizzed inside of her. A spark igniting like a broken-down truck miraculously coming to life in the middle of a snowstorm, or as though a giant lightbulb had flashed above her head and was frantically screaming 'eureka!'. Or physically, the bin in the corner of the room bursting alight with a roaring fire as Theia rushed over with a pair of oven gloves and uttering 'fudge, fudge, fudge!' before throwing it into the sink and trying her best to dodge the flames as the water from the tap hissed the burning plastic into nothing.

Head arising from a cloud of smoke, a gleaming smile swiped across her face. She was going to escape. That was her absolutely, completely, and utterly flawless masterplan! If Mr Five could do it ━ and that old bat had to be at least one hundred years old ━ then Theia could bloody well do it too! And anyhow, there wasn't even the risk of getting hitmen sent against her. Her own mother most definitely would never kill her, of course. Right?

But Theia ignored that for now. Damn the Handler, she didn't care what she thought. This was going to be her one chance at freedom, her one chance to explore the world and do something impactful, or at least, find a nice little forest with a cottage and holiday for a few weeks or so. Or perhaps a trip to the Bahamas? She'd be back anyway if nothing were to go wrong and of course, Theia was one thousand per cent very careful.

A rap at the door snapped her out of her thoughts. Appeared was an elderly woman, kitted in a blood-splattered navy suit, tie hanging from her shoulders torn to shreds and a briefcase hanging limply in the cusp of her fingers. Theia couldn't put a name to her, but the face looked familiar enough, and friendly besides.

“Mornin’ dearie. Would you mind puttin’ the kettle on for me? One sugar, jus’ a dash of tea love. God, what a night I had!” The woman slumped against the archway of the door, letting the briefcase clamour onto the floor with a huff from the woman. Theia felt vaguely guilty that she couldn’t remember her name. “I had this geezer in Budapest who…”

Humming to herself, Theia stopped listening and turned around to make the beverage. Any sort of gory details would have her churning her entire breakfast into the scolded bin before she had the time to fart. Those adventures always made her unbelievably gassy and nauseous.

“…a ‘lil dearie so precious like ya self wouldn’t understand everything I do.” The lady finally finished after Theia handed over the only china teacup she _hadn’t_ smashed yet.

Ah, there that sentence went again. Theia really should get cracking on a fudging scoreboard to count the amount of times she’d heard _that_ before.

Feigning a smile, Theia spoke in a soft voice. “No, no. Of course, I wouldn’t… good morning to you Miss.”

The woman walked away, avoiding the briefcase room she was surely headed to and disappearing around the corner. Quirking a brow, Theia sputtered slightly at the sudden realisation that this supposedly trained assassin had left her briefcase behind! Wasn’t that literally the first rule in the handbook? The good in her chimed for Theia to shout after the woman and hand over the briefcase as hastily as possible. Imagine the trouble if the briefcase had gone missing?

Ah. 

Imagine the trouble if it _did_ go missing?

There went the voice clamouring in her head telling the crackle of rebellion glimmering in her to just _shut up_. And yet... it was the desperate quench of hope that told that voice to scram. The pang of 'what-if's faded into the back of her mind. There really wasn't anything to fear now, other than the lecture she'd probably have thrown in her face when she got back, and thinking of that sent a slight chill rolling down her spine.

Well, that didn't really matter now, Theia remarked to herself before pouring the remains of the Handler's coffee into the melted plastic with a hefty exhale winding out of her mouth. This was her moment and Theia would be damned if she'd let whatever the hell her mother would do get in her way. _She_ wasn't the one with powers now, was she? Buttoning on a red coat over her shirt and plaid dress ensemble, she laced her hand around the handle of the briefcase and let a smile swoop onto her face.

This was it. Theia was leaving. And leaving with something that'd surely make her Commission _legend._

Hastily, she crept along a dim hall and paused at the top of the steep stone steps of the lobby, staring. Considering it was nearing lunch hour, it surprising to find it was safely unoccupied so no nosy employee would stop and ask her what she was doing with a blood-splattered briefcase. God forbid, the Handler found out before she'd even managed to make it out of the door, that would just be _sad_. 

She sprinted down the steps, not exactly managing to contain the child-like thrill bursting inside her. Swinging the doors open with a harsh thud from her hip and the briefcase, a cold draft of autumn wind hit her like an ice cube being dragged across her collarbone. Theia knew that whatever this was (aside from the scent of chicken stew wafting its way over from the cafeteria) it was what freedom smelt like. Making her way a safe enough distance from the lobby, Theia fixed her eyes on the cold sun, now creeping out from behind a thick grey cloud.

It would take all her concentration to pull off something like _this_ and it'd be utterly fucked over if some random sod decided to interrupt her midway through. Her fists clenched together and eyes were sewn shut as she kept one thought trailing around her head. _Set the lobby on fire, set the lobby on fire, set the lobby on fire_. Ignoring the pickles of pain pinching at her forehead, Theia kept her focus. She needed to do this. She needed to prove that she was... well, that she was bloody well old enough to pull something _marvellous_ off. 

For an instant, all there was around her was heat and flame and light and blinding sort of exhilaration and from somewhere erupted a shower of sparks thorning at her nape. Gushing her insides was a fever before it exploded into a tremendous and sudden coolness as energy burst into life. There was a sharp and thunderous crackle booming from inside of what she presumed was the lobby. A violent fire clawed at the windows that lay beside the staircase and devilishly fought against the glass and marble.

"Oh, _fudge_..." A panic utter came from Theia. She really didn't intend for it to be _that_ big. But, hey at least it didn't━ "Oh... oh no. Oh no, no, no, no...!"

The fire was threatening to engulf the entire lobby, from what she could see. It was quickly sizzling away at the giant spruce doors, breaking them down as the dangerous mess of it all was warning her that it was bound to explode into something much, much bigger.

Scrambling for the buckles on the briefcase, she prayed to whatever lord out there that she simply wouldn't get teleported into some apocalypse, or worse, _Alaska_. 

Exchanging glances at her future and whatever the hell was going on in front of her, Theia voiced her final goodbyes. "Oh, I am terribly sorry mother."

And with a _whoosh!_ and an irradiant blue flash expelling from the remains of Theia and the briefcase, she clapped out of sight.


	2. Chapter 2

**THEIA PERDE FOUND** herself slumped into the hideously uncomfortable guest chairs strewn around the Handler's desk for only the third time that week, a groan swelling in the back of her throat. The sheer rue bubbling within her was almost unbearable by then ━ what on earth had she been thinking? By God, if only she'd had the guts (or the tools) to scrape her eardrums out, then she most certainly would've.

Of course this stupid ruddy plan of hers didn't work. Even after numerous attempts (and multiple rereads on a book on how to be extremely persuasive), the efforts were futile. Nothing ever worked. And most likely nothing ever would, even if the Handler ended up dead in a ditch, or even better, Theia herself. But she supposed, with dwindling enthusiasm and optimism, that it was the dedication that counted.

She twiddled her thumbs together, not exactly having the nerve to look the Handler in the eye. Though realising that it was probably best to not block out whatever waffle her mother had thrown at her this time, she perked her head up slightly and met her gaze with a certain naivety draped across her face.

"...now look at me, Theia," The Handler's voice faded back in, sounding overly exasperated and annoyed which only made the girl's toes curl harder. "The world outside the Commission is extremely dangerous for a young girl like you."

Well, that was a bit of an overstatement, Theia thought, hardly biting back the urge to explain how she was not a little girl and was thirty shitting years old despite how she looked or even acted.

"Don't you look at me like that, young lady. You may be an adult mentally, but you are still technically fifteen. What would someone like you do if you were caught in an alley with a murderer? Fight back?" The Handler let out a laugh afterwards that nearly made her gag; the sound itself mocked her, ringing in her ears as if telling her that she would never have the strength or guts to leave her home at the Commission.

She blinked back in response, face so blank it was unreadable. Her mother did have a point, however reluctantly Theia admitted that ━ Herb from Management could probably put up a fistfight better than her, and he was, well, _Herb_ for crying out loud!

The Handler merely scoffed and drew up a broad smile. "And really, darling, your abilities are much needed here! Where would we all be without your delightful pick-me-up coffee each morning? Everyone loves you! I'm not sure where we'd all be without that adorable little smile of yours," she gushed, tugging at Theia's cheek with two manicured fingers. "Honestly, I have no clue as to where you pull all these ideas about leaving from. A girl so fragile as yourself really should just be content with your grand life here."

After a sharp draw of breath, she finally spoke. “Is there really anything grand about serving you guys coffee all damn━”

"Ah-ah! Language, young lady.” The Handler snapped, wagging a condescending finger into Theia’s face as though she was two years old. "Now, what did we say about talking back?"

Theia painfully remarked the lecture from the month before, listing each rule The Handler had set up for her after she had caught her daughter smoking with ladies from the Circuit room during their break.

"Good. I’m glad you’ve finally remembered something,” The Handler said, drumming her fingers along the stainless-steel desk below her.

She drawled a sigh and frowned. “But mother! Why can't ━ no, why _won’t_ you just━”

"No." The dark and serious glance upon her mother’s face was no short of threatening and Theia felt a small chill of terror trail down her spine. As soon as that look appeared, it vanished only to be replaced with a smile that lay a little too wide and a little too jolly. “Darling, why don’t you make yourself useful and get me a coffee? Two sugars, you know how I like it. We could go out for lunch if you’d like. Now off you go, dearie.”

Theia’s teeth gritted against each other as she swooped up from her chair, a tight smile pressing at her lips. “Yes, of course. Mother.” After a dismissing flourish from the Handler’s hand, she swept out of the room.

*****

Theia stared down at the mess of teabags and sugar across the marble of the counter and blinked against the sudden hot prickling behind her eyes. She looked up at the ceiling and breathed slowly in and out, in and out, bringing herself back under control. She was sure not to cry over something like this ━ not even in the privacy of her own goddamn beverage making-station. The outcome was inevitable, she shouldn't have even tried. This was her grand life, she reminded herself bitterly.

In a remarkable effort of self-discipline, she swallowed back the threat of tears and again tried to force her attention to the Handler's coffee, now overpouring and dribbling onto the counter below. But her thoughts would not obey. If only she could just set her stupid damn desk on fire for the millionth time in her painstakingly slow life, that'd show her and her stupid cup of coffee with two stupid sugars. If only she hadn’t replaced her desk with a stainless steel one just for that reason.

There was so much more she craved in life other than being the lovely girl who served the employees of the Commission coffee. So much more than counting how many sugars went into some boring field worker's tea, or anyone else for that matter. But her determination was nothing more than her gut squelching beneath her skin at that moment, only a distant thought as Theia found herself quickly being dragged back down to her sour reality.

"Oh, fudging hell..." she glowered, pounding a tight fist into the worktop. More coffee only spilt out and splashed onto her hand with a spiking sizzle. ”Stupid damn thorn-in-my-side coffee-bastard _fudge_ ,” she muttered aloud, and a passing worker gasped loudly and levelled a sharp look at her as he hobbled by. "Oh God, erm, not you! I am so, so sorry... good morning!" She called after the worker as he hurried down the hall and towards the briefcase room that sat only a stride or two away from her tiny station.

Her patience by now was tiptoeing its away along a fragile and very thin slate of ice. If only a rock fell on her head or some sort of baseball bat or even better, some sort of siren call from God that told her to just end━

"...Mr. Five... yeah, that's right."

Another voice chimed in a rushed whisper. "Escaped you say? How on earth did he pull that off?"

"Dunno. According to Dot, he's done some magic stuff to get to 2100 or something... whatever the case, he's in deep shit."

There was a hum of acknowledgement. "Right yeah, heard about that. Apparently, the Handler has only gone and sent some damn hitmen after the man. Shame... anyway, I was thinking of asking Gloria out for some Italian..."

Like that, the passer-bys trailed off into the distance along with their gossip.

Suffice to say, Theia's interest was truly piqued. Over the countless years she'd spent serving the Commission, she'd heard her fair share of stories and countless rumours on the legendary 'Mr. Five'. They spoke of him as though he were the second coming of Christ and how brilliantly practised his murdering skills were, and how the old fart had managed to survive in some apocalypse a good few years into the future. Apparently, he'd even caused the Titanic to sink and because of that, he now bore an eyepatch and a hook for an arm. Theia simply took everyone's word for it ━ he truly seemed to be _something_.

Now hearing that he'd escaped (however the old guy managed to pull that off), something fizzed inside of her. A spark igniting like a broken-down truck miraculously coming to life in the middle of a snowstorm, or as though a giant lightbulb had flashed above her head and was frantically screaming 'eureka!'. Or physically, the bin in the corner of the room bursting alight with a roaring fire as Theia rushed over with a pair of oven gloves and uttering 'fudge, fudge, _fudge_!' before throwing it into the sink and trying her best to dodge the flames as the water from the tap hissed the burning plastic into nothing.

Head arising from a cloud of smoke, a gleaming smile swiped across her face. She was going to escape. That was her absolutely, completely, and utterly flawless masterplan! If Mr. Five could do it ━ and that old bat had to be at least one hundred years old ━ then Theia could bloody well do it too! And anyhow, there wasn't even the risk of getting hitmen sent against her. Her own mother most definitely would never kill her, of course. Right?

But she ignored that for now. Damn the Handler, she didn't care what she thought. This was going to be her one chance at freedom, her one chance to explore the world and do something impactful, or at least find a nice little forest with a cottage and holiday for a few weeks or so. Perhaps a trip to the Bahamas? She'd be back anyway if nothing were to go wrong, and of course, she was one thousand per cent _very_ careful.

A rap at the door snapped her out of her thoughts. Appeared was an elderly woman, kitted in a blood-splattered navy suit, tie hanging from her shoulders torn to shreds and a briefcase hanging limply in the cusp of her fingers. Theia couldn't put a name to her, but the face looked familiar enough, and friendly besides.

“Mornin’ dearie. Would you mind puttin’ the kettle on for me? One sugar, jus’ a dash of tea love. God, what a night I had!” The woman slumped against the archway of the door, letting the briefcase clamour onto the floor with a huff from the woman. Theia felt vaguely guilty that she couldn’t remember her name. “I had this geezer in Budapest who…”

Humming to herself, Theia stopped listening and turned around to make the beverage. Any sort of gory details would have her churning her entire breakfast into the scolded bin before she had the time to burp. Those adventures always made her unbelievably gassy and nauseous.

“…a ‘lil dearie so precious like ya self wouldn’t understand everything I do.” The lady finally finished after Theia handed over the only china teacup she _hadn’t_ smashed yet.

Ah, there that sentence went again. She really should get cracking on a scoreboard to count the amount of times she’d heard that before.

Feigning a smile, Theia spoke in a soft voice. “No, no. Of course, I wouldn’t… good morning to you Miss.”

The woman walked away, avoiding the briefcase room she was surely headed to and disappearing around the corner. Quirking a brow, Theia sputtered slightly at the sudden realisation that this supposedly trained assassin had left her briefcase behind! Wasn’t that literally the first rule in the handbook? The good in her chimed for Theia to shout after the woman and hand over the briefcase as hastily as possible. Imagine the trouble it was to go missing, that'd certainly cause one hell of a ruckus.

Ah. 

Imagine the trouble if it _did_ go missing?

There went the voice clamouring in her head telling the crackle of rebellion glimmering in her to just shut up. And yet... it was the desperate quench of hope that told that voice to scram. The pang of 'what-if's faded into the back of her mind. There really wasn't anything to fear now, other than the lecture she'd probably have thrown in her face when she got back, and thinking of that sent a slight chill rolling down her spine.

Well, that didn't really matter now, Theia remarked to herself before pouring the remains of the Handler's coffee into the melted plastic with a hefty exhale winding out of her mouth. This was her moment and Theia would be damned if she'd let whatever the hell her mother would do get in her way. _She_ wasn't the one with powers now, was she? Buttoning on a red coat over her shirt and plaid dress ensemble, she laced her hand around the handle of the briefcase and let a smile swoop onto her face.

This was it. Theia was leaving. And leaving with something that'd surely make her Commission _legend._

Hastily, she crept along a dim hall and paused at the top of the steep stone steps of the lobby, staring. Considering it was nearing lunch hour, it surprising to find it was safely unoccupied so no nosy employee would stop and ask her what she was doing with a blood-splattered briefcase. God forbid The Handler found out before she'd even managed to make it out of the door, that would simply be pathetic.

She sprinted down the steps, not exactly managing to contain the child-like thrill bursting inside her. Swinging the doors open with a harsh thud from her hip and the briefcase, a cold draft of autumn wind hit her like an ice cube being dragged across her collarbone. Theia knew that whatever this was (aside from the scent of chicken stew wafting its way over from the cafeteria) it was what freedom smelt like. Getting a safe enough distance from the lobby, she fixed her eyes on the cold sun, now creeping out from behind a thick grey cloud.

It would take all her concentration to pull off something like this and it'd be utterly fucked over if some random sod decided to interrupt her midway through. Her fists clenched together and eyes were sewn shut as she kept one thought trailing around her head. _Set the lobby on fire, set the lobby on fire, set the lobby on fire_. Ignoring the prickles of pain pinching at her forehead, Theia kept her focus. She needed to do this. She needed to prove that she was... well, that she was bloody well old enough to pull something as _marvellous_ as this off. 

For an instant, all there was around her was heat and flame and light and blinding sort of exhilaration and from somewhere erupted a shower of sparks thorning at her nape. Gushing her insides was a fever before it exploded into a tremendous and sudden coolness as energy burst into life. There was a sharp and thunderous crackle booming from inside of what she presumed was the lobby. A violent fire clawed at the windows that lay beside the staircase and devilishly fought against the glass and marble.

"Oh, fudge..." A panicked utter came from Theia. She really didn't intend for it to be _that_ big. But, hey at least it didn't━ "Oh... oh no. Oh no, no, no, no...!"

The fire was threatening to engulf the entire lobby, from what she could see. It was quickly sizzling away at the giant spruce doors, breaking them down as the dangerous mess of it all was warning her that it was bound to explode into something much, _much_ bigger.

Scrambling for the buckles on the briefcase, she prayed to whatever lord out there that she simply wouldn't get teleported into some apocalypse, or worse, _Alaska_. 

Exchanging glances at her future and whatever the hell was going on in front of her, Theia voiced her final goodbyes. "Oh, I am terribly sorry mother."

And with a _whoosh!_ and an irradiant blue flash expelling from the remains of Theia and the briefcase, she clapped out of sight.


End file.
